there are timeswhere i am silentand i curl upon the floor boardsand stay hiddeninside of myselfwhere there is warmthandwhere my solitude is the sweetest symphonythat has ever been sungto the earthwhere i wash awayfromthis planetary existencedropping intoa higher mevoyaging into inner spaceand silencewhere i becomedust particlesin sun raysi will lend you my skinuntil i have no more fleshto strip from these bonesuntil the taking me intakes me away

and there are times where i stand on the edgewith the wind sweepingthrough the full spacesbetween my fingersracing through my hairlike wildfire and i fucking roarand i only shut my eyesto blinki rainlight beamsin becomingand i float onin my ownfierce divinityif you could bathe in my heart tonightit would burn youwith the strengthof four hundred billion suns.

i would like to lay here with youtangled in the bonesof affectionthe world is greyand we are warmburied in our bloodwhere we canbreathe away the sunmelt into the constellationsand the hum of the moonstrip me of my fleshand crawl beneath the depthsof my purest beinglet us devouryou and iuntilthere is no moreyou and ito devouronlyusto rest intobecause there are nightsmy dearwhere i grow wholein solitudenightswhere i hold myselfbefore i hold anotherbefore i hold a youstillthere are nightswhere the muscles in my armsexhaust themselvesfrom holding the universeand all of her planetswhere my heartswells upfrom all the misswherefragility overpowerswherei grow tiredof being bravelay your weight on mecover methe way the starscover the black skywhere i can feel youten feet deepinside my chestandinside the lightthat crawls beneath my skinwhere we paint the air surrounding uswith the sound of our moansand i would like to breathe my loveinto thebeatingof your heartand every tipof your fingersand your eyelasheswe should all have love breathed into usin all the timesnot just in some of the timesnot just in half the timesso tonighti would like for youto hold my firehold my bodyin youas if i were to crumble.

maybe i will become the desert windmaybe the dry heatthe airand the honey hued skyof this world will break me openand in the windi will float once moreif you were to ever see me againin this realm of existence or the one afteri will pull the final pieces of myself outto become the mountainsif nothingi will become somethingfor you to rest your bones into.

are you awakei am right herecan you hear the wordsfalling from my mouththe warmth from my whisperthat hits your necki sing you to sleepwith the stories i holdburied inside of methe fields swayagainst iron skythe moon growsfrom the palms of my handsthere is a sunbeing born in thebeat beat beatof my heartmy pulse finds yoursbetween the spaces where your boneshave not lockedyour head nestledin the tangled lengths of myseven month unbrushedsaltysun embracedmattedhead of hairyou can taste my breathingthat has takena holdof your own airif you are going to live between my legsand devour meyou can bet your sweet assi will have youvibrate intothe core of my soultooso we can lay hereand lay hereand lay hereand your eyes openbrieflyand brieflytime cannot be measuredfor you are an injection of adorationstraight into my veinsatom by atomlittle by littlei feel you orbit into minei forgetwhere we werewhere we arewhere we could bebut every cross beamof my rib cageneurotransmitters crossing synaptic cleftsaxon to dendriteis grasping to the waywe spill together in bone silence.

you could sink oceansyet you wash upon my shore linein gentle wavesthe kind that leave tracesof sea foamcarved in sand grainsthey always returnswaying in motionsome nightsi taste you in the back corners of my tonguepouring through my skinyour wavesbeating against my existencei know there are things i will never understandlike space time and special relativityhow every single human on this planet is living a separate experiencehow life meltsstillness swallowsthe beat of my hearthas a voice in my earswhen i stand on top of the mountains and how only you taste likewhat the first breath of airafter not breathing for centuriesfeels like most nightsi remember how to swimtonightmy limbs have been washed awayi am drowningin you.

you are not here to play smallyou hold the suns firethe depths of the oceanyou move like the tidewith ferocious beautyswallowing the earthand holding itin the palms of your handssimultaneouslycrawl hometo your withinyou are a forceto be reckoned witha goddessa warriorof lovea creature that belongsto the somewhereto the everywhereto the great divineto the humble existenceof differencedrifting awayfrom the surfacefrom wading in the shallowsto the cosmic energywe feel swirling all aroundimmersed in doings of your ownaware of the fullnessnot the absenceyou are hereto sway in the stormto restore your soulin silenceand feel the healingbeating in your chestagainst your rib cageyou are hereto hold space in your heartfor flamesyou are hereto grow eagle wingsand soarriseyou are not hereto play small my darling.

i have been writing a poem about silence for eighty four daysand there is nothingand perhaps that is a poem in itselfto let silence be silenceto let an unwritten poembe completesome things on this earthhold strengths beyondbeautytimespacepowersufferingelationto be simply articulatedthey should not be sought afterif it is not thereit is not thereif you do not feel ityou do not feel itlet it be in youand let you be in itvibrate with itvibrate to far away galaxiesand stay within those galaxiesallow yourself space to restin this silencelet it crawl inside of youuntil you can touch the silenceuntil you can feel it corroding your veinsin explosive collisions of epiphanieswithin the whole of everythingyou think you knowwithin the whole of everythingyou believe you exist inso tonightmy light pours outwardthis silence poursfor you:

your head is moulded in the curve between my rib cage and my hipit is four in the morningand i am not asleepand i am not awakei am smilingi can here the tink tink of rain outsideand the wind howls with the storm that is brewingand you are in the deepest sleepexperiencing your own consciousness yet you still searchto fill the empty spaces between my fingersyou pull me into youfor skin on skinfor holding of my entiretyfor our limbs to be tangledi do not know where my legs startor where yours endand we do not say goodnightinstead we read bukowski togetheruntil our eyes can no longer focus on his poemsand we speak about the theory of the five love languageshow each human shows affection differentlyand if they do not show it how we dowe worry that the love is not therethe universecoexisting energiesand the things between that we do not completely understandbefore we close our eyes and rest into one another you spoke"as long as our bodies are as close together as they can be throughout the night"i will take that over any goodnight a man has uttered to mei breathe you inin alternate universesand never feel you escape from my lungsin any of those universesthe human heart beats 115,200 times a dayand i am no good with poemsor keeping plants aliveor keeping my lips off of youor anything involving the left side of my brainor numbersbut in terms of certaintiesi am certain that you live in at least 183,970 of themyou found my words hidden in the back corners of my tonguethe blonde baby hairs on my stomachbetween my thighsbehind my neckupon my eye lidsand the tender placementof your palm pressed against my cheekwhen you discovered them hiddeninside of my mouthand i discovered yourshidden inside of your amber eyesyou cannot tell memagic does not existwhen i have itlaying in the space between my rib cageand my hip.

Tonight I am harvesting the midnight sky, the warming September breeze, howl of the moon and you.

I do not recognise you

I do not know who you are

but you have visited me in my dreams every night this last week.

Let the entire history of our adoration

be the way our limbs become tangled in one another

when the moon melts over us in a sliver

or half

or full bellied.

I do not really care, as long as I can drink you up.

I would like to slip under your skin

to soak myself in your sweet delight

this morning

this afternoon

this evening.

I wish for the air you breathe into my lungs to taste like what cedarwood and patchouli smells like

at two in the morning when the world is asleep

and our world is the only one burning so brightly it can be seen two point seven billion miles from earth.

I wish for the only pain in this world to be the way winter’s chill can strip you of life, until spring cradles you in her arms and the cherry blossoms sing.

I wish to be so deep in you, that oceans tremble.

I wish to dance with you, in liminal spaces.

I wish for you to feel my softness, and the weight of my truth.

I wish to lay here with you, on these icy wooden floor boards when my mattress is an arms distance from where our bodies have collapsed into one another. For my sole intent is not to make love to you here tonight, not to drip in one another into the night, but to hold your gaze. To marvel at the way you illuminate from underneath me and trace your jawline with the tips of my fingers.

My eyes will not leave yours, until I crumble.

Then my lips will not leave yours.

I wish to map out where the sun wakes from your collarbones and storms brew along the horizon your spine.

The valleys and the deserts you are composed of.

The canyons formed upon your chest.

To breathe in your borders.

You are an infinite adventure. A path I wish to run along at dusk and crawl along at dawn.

Telling a man to get out of your heart if he no longer immerses himself in the entirety of your heart, and the fire that is held within you is lady like.

Making love to yourself every single night is lady like.

Using no as a full sentence is lady like.

Chasing horizons at dawn down highways that stretch into infinity in the middle of nowhere while wearing nothing but boots, ripped shorts, a lace bralette, dirt smothering your legs while you hold a bottle of whisky in one hand and your creativity in the other with heaving lungs of euphoria is lady like.

Ripping the flesh open raw on your ass upon snow capped mountains, standing up and falling another seven times on the same bloody wound that turns your white dress into hues of scarlet blood raging because you refuse to stay on the ground and wave that flag of surrender is lady like.

Packing your bags and refusing to settle for sex that is not an explosion of raw, pure heart to heart passion is lady like.

If he does not hurt your eyes the way the sun does when you stare for that second too long but your persistence holds the better of you

if he does not suffocate your soul with warmth the way fire warms the tips of your fingers in subzero temperatures

if you breathe in the universe and do not taste only him

if you do not come out dripping one another

if you do not want to make a home inside of his mind first and body second

walk away. Because that is lady like.

So go lie naked in bed like a star fish and take up space.

Kiss the empty spaces between your own bones like the divine goddess that you are.

But if I am going to beg, I beg you to create for you. Not for what you think the world needs.

There are magnitudes of humans out there who will tell you, you cannot do this and you cannot do that, more than what you can do.

There are a magnitude of humans out there, who live in can’t’s, because it is safe there.

But here is the thing, nothing wondrous ever happens in can’t’s.

We were not made for can’t’s.

And I find that shit scarier than the demons I have stared in the eyes and conquered.

I ain’t no life coach, therapist or fancy author that went to art school and accumulated mountains of debt and has ten degrees framed neatly on her wall as self validation, from an inner crippling fear of failure ingrained into her being by society.

No.

I can do a lot of other things than just tear out my heart and write with blood dripping upon these pages and give the entirety of my soul when I shoot.

I know a thing, or two, or fifty about Ayurvedic medicine and healing the human body holistically without the need for western medicine. Pills do not cure a diseased spirit.

Every morning I sit with the sunrise in silence and meditate for an hour. Before I consciously do life.

Every time I ride my bike I end up in some minor car accident with bruises and bloody thighs. But I shake off the dust, always. I’ll let karma handle the assholes that drive into me.

I own more camera lenses than shoes. I own three lenses.

Anything that was created circa 1920’s has a soft spot in my heart. Nothing is built to last these days, profit and greed is at the forefront of our thinking. These things have character, soul, stories. I melt in that.

I don’t own enough paper for the amount of illustrating and designing I do.

When I travel, I hardly have enough money for food. But it always ends up falling into place. Everything always does. When you’re scraping your last cents together with lint in your pockets, you find a way. When you’re at the bottom, you can only rise.

I thrive in simplicity.

I create with transparency, rawness and honesty. Because that is all I know how.

I don’t know everything. But I know this one thing.

Go do that thing that lights you on fire, for you.

Yell against your dying day with that hand of yours held upon your beating heart.